Sinful kisses, sinful touches and sinful Whispers
by DevilMayCry4
Summary: Rumors were spread around that there was someone walking around that seemed to be Dante's dark half, his twin brother, Vergil. He's really back...and brings a sinful gift for the young Sparda.


_**Sinful kisses, sinful touches and sinful Whispers**_

Dante leaned back in the rickety chair, dubbed rickety by none other than Trish since it kept squeaking each time Dante were to stand, another scratchy whine echoing through the empty building of the Devil May Cry hence the fact that Trish went out clubbing with Lady. Rain was pelting heavily against the windows as he lifted Ivory up, reaching into his pants' pocket for the pure red cloth to shine the lovely weapon of the two. The light twin of the dark one. Cruel irony there.

Speaking of irony, he had caught whispers of rumors that there was a man that looked exactly like him, yet when he pushed his pure white hair back, he looked demonic. Like he was Dante Sparda's dark half. Shit-filled irony there, since his twin was dead.

He furrowed his brows, lightly tapping the cloth against the barrel of his gun, removing it and placing the cloth on the desk before him, the wooden door unlocked, since he doubted anyone would walk in and try to kill him. Hell, there was one night when a demon came waltzing in, holding a human captive, thinking they could use the person as a shield and yet Ebony was the first to say hello, sending a deep bronze colored bullet through the thing's skull. Ivory shooting the jaw off.

Only being rewarded with a simple and quick, "Thank you," before the person ran off in fear.

He shrugged, twirling Ivory around his index finger, lifting his legs up and propping them atop the oak desk, dark colored wood standing out more than the rest of the building. Bathroom in the back, rooms in the back, pizza boxes all over the place, trash next to his desk, no papers gracing his glorious spot to sit by. The light bouncing off the oak wood with a fiery passion. His ankles crossed as his white bangs hung in his handsome lightly tanned face, a frown the only thing visible.

"Oh yeah," he muttered, lifting his head after a while, a brow tilted into an unimpressed feature as his bluish-silver eyes landed on the phone which began to ring. Reaching over with his right hand and coil his fingers around the handle to the black electronic device, pulling it up and over to his ear. "Devil May Cry."

"Dante," Trish's voice came, sounding exhausted, like the way she sounded when she drank too much, "sorry...I won't be going back until tomorrow morning. Is that all right?"

Her words were slurred as Dante rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he growled, displeased that she couldn't hold her liquor for shit, "you really need to learn how to hold that liquor, Trish, otherwise someone just might take ya for a spin."

Static was his only reply as a smug smirk slowly played its way onto his lips, knowing she wasn't pleased with his response.

Tossing it back onto the receiver, he shook his head, thunder cracking off violently in the distance, his eyes rolling as he pushed himself back, seat squealing its protests as he stood and walked away from the main desk, traveling over to the door, locking it. Turning smartly on his heel, the young Sparda walked into the back room, then into the bathroom.

Needing a shower, badly, since he had to shoot up a large spider, who spilled his guts all over the demon slayer as a parting gift.

Turning the dials, his eyes dulled, leaning back against the sink with a frown, pondering on why of all times those rumors had to start. He killed his brother years ago. All those years ago, he tried to stop him, to save him, but to no avail.

All his brother, Vergil, wanted was power and nothing more. And he was willing to kill his brother to get it, to have it all. Whispers of promises for power floated around them on that day; their father's prized sword was darkened, tainted. Only whispering for release, bittersweet promises.

Dante stood up straight, turning the dials until they stopped the rush of water, pulling the lever for the shower to start, slowly stripping himself of his attire, closing his eyes with a deep frown.

Pushing open the shower door, he stepped through, the hot sprays splashing against his lukewarm-like body, sighing from displeasure as he leaned back against the shower wall, eyes distant as steam floated in front of him, the guts falling down and dissolving in the scorching sprays, slowly sinking through the drain. Reaching his left hand up, he ran his fingers through his snow white colored hair, strands sticking up when he stopped when the locks were out of his face, his eyes slowly shutting, recalling everything that had happened in his life so far, and dreading the feel of worry that was bubbling up in his stomach.

More than anything, he wished he could've been stronger and more persistent to stop his brother from wanting to resurrect the demons' power over the human realm, to bring him back to his senses.

He was even close to giving into the weak promises. Yet, looking back at his crazed twin, he remembered why he was there, to stop him.

His bluish-silver eyes slowly reopened, tilting his head back so he was staring up at the ceiling, steam hovering overhead as his eyelids slowly fell halfway shut. _Tch, after these many years...you think I'd forget about him._ he thought bitterly as he hunched himself over, pushing the shower lever down, turning all flowing water off, beads of the clear liquid dripping from the very ends of his bangs. _Who started those rumors anyway? That bastard..._

Dante pushed open the shower door, exiting and grabbing onto a deep blue towel, wrapping it around his waist with a deep sigh, shaking his head to rid himself of the water covering his hair, the rough fabric of the towel brushing against his bare flesh.

Turning, he walked out of the restroom, ears perking up once he heard lightning crackle outside the place, scowling as he made his way to his room, pushing open the door with his left hand, eyes hazed over, flashing images of that bloody picture flashing in his mind, when his brother sliced his hand.

Didn't take long to heal either, though it hurt like hell for a few days. Putting him out of commission from missions.

His bed was there, waiting eagerly for when he would go and lay on it, falling to sleep. Trailing over, he plopped his bottom onto it, his back to the balcony, the rain repetitively pounding, angry that he wasn't afraid of the storm, demanding attention.

He reached over with his right hand to the lamp's switch near his bed, flicking it and illuminating the room as his bluish-silver eyes blinked a few times, swearing he saw the shadow of his dead twin on the maple wood to his dresser.

The half-breed leaned back, dismissing the thought as he closed his eyes, stopping halfway before his bare back came in contact with the silk sheets, feeling strong, fabric-covered, arm wrap around his chest, a hand against his neck, gently wrapped around it as the owner's thumb pushed his face, bluish-silver eyes opening to see Vergil kneeling on the bed with slightly unimpressed eyes.

Dante's bluish-silver eyes widened as his lips parted slightly, his heart pounding, swearing he was dreaming, that what had happened next wasn't real. Vergil leaned down, connecting their lips together in a forbidden, sinful, kiss. The elder's left arm wrapping around his brother's waist, pulling him closer as Dante swiftly hoisted his hands up, his left grabbing onto his twin's left, his right grabbing onto the mirror's right, trying to pry them off, his eyes painfully wide.

Forbidden touches and a forbidden kiss. It wasn't natural, this wasn't natural. Yanking away from those sinfully delicious lips, the younger of the two glared at the elder. "You're supposed to be dead, you bastard," he hissed, wriggling around, trying to escape the man's touches. "You're not alive...you can't b-"

He was silenced by Vergil licking at the nape of his neck, hot breath brushing against his warm skin. "You...dear brother..." he whispered, letting his right hand trail down the young Sparda's naked chest, stopping at the rim of the towel, earning a frightened gasp from the slightly shorter male. "Talk too much."

"You're dead! How the hell'd you come back?!" he cried, throwing his head back once he felt the hand slowly, and teasingly, run over his arousal, a chocked groan being torn from his parted lips, his canines slightly growing. Prepared to use his trigger if needed. "And stop touching me!"

Vergil cocked a brow, a smug look crossing his features as he ran his own growing canines against his twin's flesh, little scrapes appearing on the tanned epidermis. "As I told you earlier, 'you talk too much'," he complied unemotionally, "so just calm down, I won't bite...at least...not too hard."

'_Not too hard'?! _Dante thought with wide eyes, his panic level rising to a newer level, bringing his knees up and planting his feet onto the silk sheets, pressing forward with reddened cheeks, fear...and embarrassment. _H-hell no! He can't be talking about –_

"Let me go!" the younger male screamed, his fangs now completely visible, "Get the fuck off me!!"

Vergil frowned disapprovingly, turning harshly, causing Dante to gasp while being shoved onto the bed, his brother hovering above him with narrowed orbs, the half-breed staring back with his mouth slightly agape, stunned and afraid, swiftly slapping his hands against the elder's chest, pushing him back as he slammed his eyes shut, a blush burning his usually unexpressive face.

"Vergil! Stop fooling around and get off me!!"

Before any more protests passed the young Sparda's lips, Vergil connected their similar lips once again, making Dante's stomach turn, shaken to the core. The elder's calloused hands coiled their fingers around the younger's wrists, pushing the hands down as he parted, flicking his tongue against his twin's lower lip.

The demon slayer slowly opened his eyes, softly panting as the blush graced his features, noticing the odd look his brother was offering him, immediately reaching over to his nightstand, grabbing onto Ebony, yet hissed angrily once he felt the elder Sparda's hand above his own, holding onto the custom-made handgun as well.

"Get off me," he snarled, looking over at his hand then back to his brother, "now."


End file.
